


The Magic in the Marrow

by tygermine



Series: HMS Dramione [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bones Fusion, Auror Draco Malfoy, F/M, Forensics, Murder Mystery, Post-Hogwarts, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: Auror Inspector Malfoy is making forensic scientist Hermione Granger's life difficult.If he's not dragging her to a crime scene, he's invading her dreams.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: HMS Dramione [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595287
Comments: 118
Kudos: 363
Collections: 2020 Sounds Like Dramione





	1. That's Doctor Granger, If You Please

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [2020SoundsLikeDramione](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2020SoundsLikeDramione) collection. 



> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.  
> The prompt for my story was: "Uh-huh! I think you're movin' in too close  
> But I think that it's my body wanting it the most,  
> Uh-huh! I don't know what it is I feel  
> But I know it's my emotions going in for the kill"
> 
> Uh Huh - Julia Michaels
> 
> A huge amount of this fic was moulded and pushed out of me by my amazing betas;
> 
> KayLeeGee and HSlades
> 
> Also, my art friend LaLunaUnita made an awesome visual of Draco's belt buckle.

Their fingers accidentally brushed as they both reached for the sugar sachets on the condiment table in Bean Me Up that morning.

Hermione felt as if she’d touched a live wire, sending a jolt down her spine and straight into her knickers. He didn’t pull his fingers away as she’d expected, instead, he lightly ran his fingertips up her hand and tightly wrapped them around her wrist.

“I recall hearing a muggle song about pouring sugar on someone,” he whispered, turning her towards him “Is that a thing muggles actually do?”

She wanted to roll her eyes at him, but they widened as she watched him reach for a sachet with his other hand and bring it to his mouth. He bit into it and tore the packet open, accidentally spilling a few granules on his shirt and hand.

Hermione leaned in and licked the sweetness from his finger, enjoying the sharp breath she heard him pull into his lungs.

“Come on Malfoy,” she teased. “Pour some sugar on me.”

With a slight tremor in his hand, he pulled her shirt open and sprinkled the sugar along her collar bone. Dropping the sachet onto the floor, his hand buried itself in her hair and drew her forward so he could suck the granules up as he worked his way across, towards her neck, licking until the sweetness faded away.

Her hands went straight for his belt, unbuckling it to give her access to his button and fly, which she made quick work of. She traced the bulge of his cock through his silk boxer briefs. Her exploration was cut short as he reached around to the back of her thighs and picked her up to rest her arse on the nearest table, pushing her skirt up to bunch at her waist.

Starting at her knees, he ran his long fingers down the inside of her thighs until he reached her knickers. He lifted the elastic edges, peeling the cotton from her wet folds before releasing the elastic with a snap. The sting made her moan and shift her hips closer to him, scrambling her fingers at his underwear, pulling it down to free his erect cock.

He pushed the cotton knickers to the side and let her guide him towards her core. She could feel his cock vibrating in her hand.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Hermione sat up with a jolt, the constant vibrating buzz from her wand, clenched in her fist under the pillow.

That could only mean one thing in her life these days...someone found human remains.

* * *

The crime scene was in an alley just off the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley.

Aurors had blocked off the entrance whilst a few Auror Inspectors spoke to the poor wizard who had found the body. 

Auror Caxton, a young, newly graduated addition to the force, met Hermione at the entrance to the alley.

“Miss Granger-” she started.

“Doctor,” Hermione interrupted.

“Right. Yes. Doctor Granger.” Auror Caxton paused for a moment, caught off guard by the correction. Hermione walked further down the alley, taking in the crime scene. “As you can see,” Auror Caxton caught up with her. “We haven’t touched anything to preserve the scene as you wrote in your book, which may I say, is absolutely revolutionary in solving crimes and, would it be impertinent to ask you to sign my copy?”

Her request was met with a blank look from Hermione before she purposely turned her attention to the remains.

“The remains, of course, sorry,” Auror Caxton stuttered out.

“Auror Caxton, what have you found so far?” A deep voice cut in from the entrance of the alley.

Draco Malfoy walked down the alley towards them, carrying two steaming cups in his hands. He went to stand next to where Hermione was crouching, examining the remains.

“I haven’t given my assessment yet,” Hermione said. She spotted the cup Malfoy held out to her.

“What’s that?”

“The elixir of life, Granger.”

“That’s not a real thing.” She took the cup from him and the whiff of strong coffee sent a montage of flashbacks to flicker through her mind. Hermione felt the heat rise in her cheeks and found herself unable to look Malfoy in the eye. The remains were safer to examine than the smirk on his face.

“Very little flesh left, possibly removed by scavengers based on bite marks on the bones. Pelvic bones suggest the victim is female. Note the skull has circular orbits and a ‘heart shaped’ nasal aperture. This suggests Asian descent."

Auror Caxton took frantic notes as Hermione spoke and opened her mouth to ask a question but was cut off by Malfoy.

“Body dump?”

“You haven’t asked for the cause of death yet,” Hermione pointed out, digging a gloved finger into the mouth of the victim and running it along the teeth.

“If you knew that, you would have told us already. Drink your coffee, Granger. I don’t like it when you’re not fully awake. Now, confirm it’s a body dump, please.”

Hermione gave him a hard look. Well, it was aimed at a spot over his shoulder so she was sure she wouldn’t blush again, and took a big gulp of her coffee. Malfoy pulled a sugar sachet out of his pocket, bit one end and tore it open before dumping the sugar into his cup. 

“Give...give...um”

He licked the granules from his lip and Hermione almost choked on her tongue.

“Given the lack of wildlife in the surrounding area,” she forced out, turning away from him to look at the remains. “As well as the absence of blood splatter, I am one-hundred per cent confident that this is not the murder scene.”

She turned to Caxton. “Cast the appropriate protection charms and have the remains transported to the lab.”

Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the ground, Hermione removed her gloves and began to walk out of the alley, Malfoy dogging her steps.

“Isn’t it nice to be working together again?” His smile was sincere, making her instantly stop just outside the alley.

“If I didn’t know better, you committed a non-magical murder just to take me away from my research, which is annoying.”

“Oh come on Granger. I’m sure your paper on the native tribes of New Guinea and their penchant for eating their dead relatives is a real page-turner, but this? This is solving crimes. It’s noble and you are nothing if not noble.”

She pushed past him in a huff. “I’ll have you know, my research on the origins of the magic genome is very important.”

“But solving murders is much more fun,” he said, following her.

“Don’t you have Auror duties to perform?”

“Thanks to our last case, I got a promotion. Supervising Auror Inspector now, which means Caxton does all the work and I just make sure she arrests the right suspect.”

“Then why are you still following me?”

“I want to be near the action when you find the cause of death.”

Hermione gave him a sidelong look. “Fine, just don’t distract the team from their tasks.”

“It’s not my fault your intern finds me distracting,” he said as she Disapparated after throwing her coffee cup in a nearby bin.

“Um, Auror Inspector Malfoy?”

“Yes, Caxton?”

“Why does she use the title of Doctor? Shouldn’t it be Healer?”

“Caxton, Granger is more of a scientific doctor. I think the full title is Forensic Anthropologist, which I think is just a fancy muggle term to say she prefers working with dead bodies to living people.”

“No matter what you call her, I think she’s a genius. Her methodologies are groundbreaking and to apply them to our work has made our casework that much better.”

“She’s not around to hear you kiss her arse, Caxton.”

“I know. Sorry, sir. No arse kissing intended sir. But sir? Could you ask Doctor Granger to sign my copy of her book?”

“Caxton, solve this case and I’ll guarantee it,” he replied before Disapparating to the lab.


	2. You're A Puzzle

The lab was housed in a converted warehouse along the Camden Canal. From the outside, it looked like any of the Victorian era warehouses that were scattered all over the district. Only a small brass plaque near the door announced its presence.

Specialised Pathological Logistics, Investigations and Forensics Foundation.

SPLIFF for short.

The interior was all stainless steel and modern equipment with offices and specialised labs lining the perimeter while the centre housed the main examination area.

Hermione was standing over the remains that were laid out on an examination table, pointing out interesting finds to her intern, Malcolm.

“Notice the microfractures to the base of the skull?”

“Have a cause of death yet, Granger?” Malfoy strode up to the examination table but kept his hands in his pockets.

“Auror Inspector Malfoy, with all due respect, we haven’t completed our initial examination yet,” Malcolm spoke up. “Doctor Granger cannot give you anything until we’ve concluded our investigation.”

“Then what can you tell me?”

“Anything now is pure supposition. I’m not comfortable drawing conclusions without the proper evidence to back it up,” Hermione said, her head still bent down over the remains. “Malcolm, we’ll need to do an isotope analysis and see if there was any trace evidence left in the fractured rib bones.”

“Isotopes? Isn’t there some sort of charm you can use?” Malfoy huffed in annoyance.

Hermione straightened and removed her gloves, and headed towards her office. Malfoy followed her closely.

“Come on Granger, surely you know a charm to make this process far less tedious.” He drawled as he closed her office door.

“Charms are fallible and inaccurate. The only thing I have so far is a facial reconstruction. That’s the one charm that seems to work properly.” She waved her wand and a 3D image appeared between them.

The victim was pretty with almond eyes, a button nose and full lips. Her black hair was pin-straight and hung to her shoulders. 

“Based on this, she is from South East Asia. Possibly Thai. Probably a second-generation immigrant to the UK.”

“No identification?”

“Nothing from the ministry but we need to send this to the muggle authorities as well.”

“I’m not getting the muggles involved in this. They always turn it into a sideshow.”

“You just hate all the wand jokes they make.”

Malfoy sniffed. “It’s juvenile and pointless and I am not allowed to say anything back or else it’s a vicious circle of disciplinary hearings and pointed remarks about my tattoo and I really don’t need that in my life right now. How long must I wait for actual information so I can begin my investigation?”

“Hasn’t Auror Caxton given you a lead from her interviews?” Hermione sat down behind her desk and began to note her initial findings.

“They were all dead ends. Nobody saw anything, which means some kind of magic was used to conceal the body dump.”

“Malfoy, please go do some paperwork. In your own office. I will let you know as soon as I find anything worthwhile.” She waved her hand at him, hoping he’d leave her alone. 

He moved to the door then hesitated for a moment.

"Don't sleep in your office." With that, he left.

* * *

It was late and SPLIFF had closed for the night.

Hermione stood in a single pool of light going over the now cleaned bones of the victim. She held a collar bone in her hands, running her fingers over the surface, feeling for any inconsistencies.

There was the sound of a throat clearing just below her, pulling her attention from her examination.

Malfoy was lying on her examination table. His eyes caught hers.

"Come on Granger, put me back together."

The rest of him was just a skeletal frame. On the table next to her lay bowls holding his internal organs. As if she were completing a puzzle, she placed each organ back where it belonged. When she picked up his heart in her cupped hands, she noticed it was still beating.

"Be careful. It’s fragile," Draco said quietly from his prone position.

Once his organs were all back in place, she slid his muscles into their positions, the tendons clicking into place like Legos.

Finally, she pulled his skin over his frame, the edges melting together seamlessly. All the while Hermione heard a song playing in the background. Maybe she'd forgotten to turn off the MP3 player in her office. It was Secretly by Skunkanansie.

As she ran her fingers along the final skin seam around his neck, Malfoy sat up and pulled her into the V of his legs.

"Good job. Now we need to test that everything works." He obnoxiously wiggled his eyebrows, took her right hand, and placed it on his erection.

She ran her fingers along the length. "Seems to be in working order."

"Maybe in the lab, but we need to field test it." He removed her hand from his cock and entangled their fingers before gracefully hopping off the table. In one fluid motion, he turned her to rest against the table and dropped to his knees. Malfoy ran his hands up her legs, pushing her skirt and lab coat up to bundle around her waist.

"No knickers?" He arched a brow and smirked up at her. Hermione grabbed the edge of the table as he nuzzled his nose along her folds.

"Oh fuck."

Her head fell back as her hips thrust forward, urgently rubbing herself against his lips, chasing her climax. His stubble scraped along her inner thigh creating a delicious contrast to the softness of his tongue laving at her entrance.

Hermione's knees began to shake against his shoulders as waves of elation rolled through her body. Her hands alternated between grabbing the table edge and his head to pull him even closer to her core. He groaned and the vibrations travelled through her core causing the first crest of her orgasm to finally burst with her release.

She pushed at his shoulders, forcing him to lean back until he lay on the floor. She lowered herself onto her knees, straddling his hips and with some deft hip rolls, impaled herself on his cock.

Hermione woke up with a gasp as the grunt of Malfoy reaching his orgasm echoed in her mind.

* * *

Hermione wasn’t hiding in her office the next morning. She was just reducing the chances of running into Malfoy. Malcolm had the isotope analysis results and she had instructed him to advise Malfoy accordingly.

So when a cup of coffee from Bean Me Up appeared on her desk, she knew her plan had been thwarted. She looked up from her desk, spotting someone in her office.

"We do actually have a decent coffee machine in our break room," she said, taking the coffee anyway, but refusing to look up at Malfoy.

This meant that his ridiculous belt buckle with its image of an arrow pointing up with the word wizard beneath it and an arrow pointing down with the word centaur above it, was in her eye line and kept reminding her of her dream, which was not helping at all.

"Why did your intern nearly throw himself at me to stop me from coming in here? It's as if I’ve offended you somehow and now you're avoiding me." He asked, confused.

"I'm not avoiding you. It's good practice for my intern to learn how to properly communicate with Aurors."

"I'm sure it is, but you're so much better at explaining this. You know I don't speak muggle science, Granger."

With immense effort, Hermione raised her head and sat back in her office chair. She could feel the blush begin to heat the skin of her chest as her eyes met his.

She opened her copy of the report and began to explain their findings to him.

In the midst of her explanation, Malfoy dug a sachet of sugar out of his pocket, tore it open with his teeth, poured the sugar into his cup, removed the piece of paper that had stuck to his lip, licked it and then sipped his coffee. 

It was practically pornographic. Her mind even supplied a Bow Chicka Wow Wow soundtrack.

“I’m sorry, but what is bow chicka wow wow?”

Shit, bugger, arse. She’d said it out loud.

“A very technical term for someone who is a muggle.”

There was a brief pause as Hermione prayed to every deity and Nikola Tesla himself that Malfoy would buy her lie.

“The victim’s a muggle?”

Hermione nodded.

“Well, bow chicka wow wow,” Malfoy murmured.


	3. Every Thing Leaves A Mark

“She was killed by the Avada curse,” Hermione stated as they stood over the skeletal remains of the victim.

“That’s impossible to determine. It doesn’t leave a mark,” countered Malfoy, across the table from her.

“Not on the outside, but if you look here, the microfractures along the base of the skull and first vertebrae. What the Avada curse does is sever the spinal cord here and the surrounding magical energy expands, which pushes against the bones, causing the fractures.”

Malfoy leaned on the table, his arms straight and tense, shoulders hunching up. “Why would a muggle get Avada’d?”

“I don’t know. We did a DNA backtrace and there is nothing that connects her to magic in any way as far back as we have records.” 

Malcolm felt the need to add to Hermione’s statement. “There’s virtually no trace evidence to tell us where she was killed and stored, either.”

Malfoy did a double-take, “Stored?”

“She had to be kept somewhere after she was killed but before she was dumped. Her bones show signs of flesh removal. It’s like she was autopsied, flayed and then dumped.” Malcolm shot a side glance to Hermione and she nodded with approval.

Malfoy groaned. “Merlin’s balls. Now I have to get the muggle authorities involved. They’re such a bunch of pillocks.”

“It also doesn’t make sense,” Malfoy continued. “Killed by magic, cut up by muggle means. Disposed of in Diagon Alley. This killer is using the line between the muggle and magical world like a jump rope.”

They stood around the examination table in silence, each trying to connect the evidence into some cohesive story that would make sense. 

A Patronus in the shape of an eagle flew into the lab and settled on the skull of the victim.

“Auror Inspector Malfoy, we found another body. In Wiltshire. A few miles from your manor.”

“My mother’s house,” he turned to Hermione. “I moved out years ago. Got a nice little townhouse in the Cotswolds.”

Hermione wasn’t too sure what to do with the information, or how to react to it. So she collected her field kit from her office and side-along Apparated with Malfoy to the crime scene.

* * *

“Do you think they’re related?”

Malfoy and Hermione, along with a selection of other Aurors, including Auror Caxton, were standing in a damp field. Rain clouds were slowly dispersing above them.

In the distance loomed the Malfoy Manor. 

Hermione made sure to keep her back to it during her examination. To not get distracted.

“No. This is a male. The facial structure suggests African descent.”

“I mean, are we looking at a possible serial killer?” Draco tucked his thumbs into his belt, arms akimbo. Hermione glanced up at him and caught herself staring at his fingers splayed wide along his hips, framing that awful belt buckle of his. Her mouth went dry and she licked her lips. Gods, those fingers. Her mind pulled up flashes of what those fingers had been capable of in her dream the night before.

“Granger?” Malfoy’s tone was concerned. “Granger?”

She blinked rapidly, coming back into the present. “I can’t...uh...determine a link here.”

“Right,” Malfoy nodded and turned to the gathered Aurors. “You heard her. To the lab.”

Hermione moved away from the remains and peeled off her gloves, looking off into the distance.

“Where did you go?” Malfoy sidled up to her, careful to ensure the manor stayed out of sight.

“Nowhere.”

“No, earlier. It was like you went somewhere in your head. Did you have an epiphany or something?”

Hermione ducked her head and checked her field kit in an effort to avoid looking at him. “Or something,” she muttered.

He gently took her elbow and smiled.

“Want to come do interviews with me?”

His touch burned up the skin of her arm and settled in her chest. “No. Uh. Lab. Tests. Evidence.”

With that, she quickly Disapparated with a pop.

* * *

SPLIFF Lab

“Doctor Granger, there seems to be something lodged in the nick of the anterior aspect of the xiphoid process.” Malcolm held up the small arrowhead-shaped bone, usually situated at the base of the sternum.

Hermione paused in her examination of the skull and leaned over to see where Malcolm was indicating.

“Swab for a sample and send it to be analysed.”

“Can I posit a scenario?” Malcolm knew Hermione was not a fan of conjecture and was surprised when she nodded. “The sample has a reflective surface. Based on where the nick is situated, I believe that this victim was autopsied after death.”

“The skull shows the same micro-fracturing as the other victim as well,” Hermione placed the skull on the table. “Malcolm, does your scenario suggest a serial killer?”

Malcolm shook his head. “I was required to take a psychology credit as part of my undergrad, which was superfluous as we all know psychology isn’t a real science and should be relegated to the Humanities building with the other soft subjects.” He noticed that Hermione’s lips had tightened in annoyance. “But I digress. My point is that psychology points to the ritual being a vital component to a serial killer. Victims often share a resemblance, the disposal is often done in a way that shows reverence. These victims were literally thrown away.”

“I think we should leave that kind of conjecture to the Aurors. Our job is not to discover why, but how.”

Malcolm nodded and turned away to take the sample as instructed. He hesitated and turned back to Hermione.

“Yes, Malcolm?” Hermione was holding a humerus bone close to her face, the magnifying goggles on her head making her eyes appear comically big.

“Will Auror Inspector Malfoy be coming to the lab later?”

“As much as I try to discourage him, he does make a habit of showing up. Why?”

“My roommate believes he keeps coming here because he is enamoured with you.”

Hermione fumbled her grip on the bone and recovered enough to glare at Malcolm.

“Auror Inspector Malfoy comes to the lab for updates on forensic evidence for active cases. I’d appreciate it if you and your roommate refrain from gossiping about him and his alleged motivations for coming here.”

Suitably chastised, Malcolm left the examination area and retreated to one of the smaller labs.

It wasn’t that Malfoy was enamoured with her that he sought her out in the lab. She was the only forensic scientist working in the magical world which made her skills invaluable in helping him solve his cases. 

At least, that’s how she rationalised his behaviour. Her own, on the other hand, was extremely questionable. Why was she suddenly having these dreams about him?

Hermione couldn’t recall any previous attraction to him. Was it because between the war and now, he’d grown into the kind of man she could respect?

But respect didn’t breed physical attraction. If it did, she would have lusted after most of her university professors.

No.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t had a date since she’d ended her last relationship about a year…no, wait...three years ago. It had been as long since she’d had sex, too.

Not that sex had been on her mind as she’d spent the last three years working all hours to establish SPLIFF and make sure the lab got the recognition it deserved. Could it be that now her life had settled into a routine, some treacherous part of her psyche was acting up with the dreams?

If that was the case, she needed to find another big project to occupy her mind above and beyond the case and her other paper. Maybe a year teaching abroad would be good?

Or, supplied a tiny voice in her mind, she could give in and act on her desires. Maybe propose a purely physical arrangement to Malfoy until the dreams stop?

What could be worse than him rejecting her? He may accept. He may not be discrete about it and then her reputation would be ruined. She’d never be published again, SPLIFF would be shut down and she’d be a professional pariah.

All for an orgasm.

It just wasn’t worth it.

A feline shaped Patronus jumped onto the remains, startling Hermione from her downward spiral into panic.

“Granger, I need you here before I curse these sodding muggle authorities.”

With a resigned sigh, she dropped off her lab coat in her office and Floo’d to the ministry.


	4. A Stakeout Is Totally A Hot Date

“It’s good to know magic isn’t infallible.”

“There’s no way they could have been identified if they didn’t exist in the magical world.”

Hermione stopped just outside the door to Malfoy’s office, the voices masculine and sharp with defensiveness.

“Why are your kind killing us off again? Got another bad seed rearing its head?” A third voice spoke up.

“Two isolated instances do not equate to a mass murderer from our side. How do we know one of your kind isn’t in on it?”

Draco’s voice could have cut glass, his tone sharp as a diamond.

Hermione knocked on the door.

“Come,” called Draco, which was really a poor choice of word when it came to her state of mind these days. She shook her head to chase away the echo of his voice from her dream.

She pushed open the door and entered his office. Draco was standing behind his desk, hands on the surface as if it was grounding him from launching into a murderous attack.

Two men stood across from him. One man wore a black suit and tie, his hair neatly combed and was slight in stature. He wore thick-rimmed glasses on his nose. The other stood almost as tall as Draco, wore jeans and a leather jacket. His hair was an unkempt mop of black curls that reminded Hermione of Harry. 

“Ah, you’re here. Excellent,” Malfoy’s demeanour changed as he greeted her. He stepped from behind his desk to stand next to her as if to protect her from the men.

“Granger, I’d like you to meet our muggle liaisons. DI Hastings,” he gestured to the bespectacled detective inspector. “And DCI Hale.” The Detective Chief Inspector turned and raised his eyebrows at her appearance.

“If all the witches here are this pretty, I may put in for a transfer,” he said to his colleague eyeing Hermione in a way that made her feel as if he were undressing her in front of them.

The growl that came from beside her was almost feral. “Do I need to remind you that you are our guests and as such, you will afford us the courtesy as your hosts.”

DI Hastings nudged his partner with his elbow. “I apologize for my partner. You must be Doctor Granger,” he extended his hand.

Hermione shook it politely but stayed next to Malfoy.

“Yes, this is our forensic expert.” He kept his glare aimed at DCI Hale. 

“Shall we all have a seat and discuss the case?” DI Hastings attempted to ease the tension in the room.

“Yes. The case.” DCI Hale finally looked away from his staring contest with Malfoy and sank into a nearby seat, next to DI Hastings.

Malfoy ushered Hermione into his desk chair but remained standing. She could see his hand twitch where it had settled close to his wand.

“Doctor Granger,” DI Hastings pulled out a sleek looking tablet and tapped the screen randomly for a few moments. “Can you share your findings with us?”

“Who are they?” Hermione asked instead.

“Does it matter?” DCI Hale leaned back in his chair, adjusting his leather jacket. She caught a glimpse of a black button-up beneath it.

“Of course it matters. I know the name of every victim I examine. That’s why I do what I do. Victims matter and they need their names, their families need to be told.”

“Yes, okay, no need to get emotional about it.” DCI Hale waved his hand and nodded towards DI Hastings. “May as well get this over with.”

Hermione glanced at Malfoy and his stance reminded her of when they were at war and the wizards and witches stood poised along their lines, ready to draw and fire at a moments notice. The muscle in his cheek twitched.

“The first victim is Pear Thanaporn. Twenty-four years old. A second-generation immigrant from Thailand. She was reported missing three weeks ago. The second victim is Newton Obinya. Born in Chiswick. Thirty years old. Missing for a week.” DI Hastings read from his tablet and turned it to show them pictures of the deceased. Unlike Hermione’s rendering, Pear had her hair cut short, in a bob style. 

“Any links found between them on your side?” Malfoy asked, his words escaping between gritted teeth.

DCI Hale shrugged. “Nothing we could ascertain. Last CCTV footage shows them boarding a train in the underground. They never get off. She was taken on the Piccadilly line and he was last seen boarding the Circle line.”

“That gives us a common hunting ground,” Hermione said.

“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the Tube, Doctor Granger, but it’s hundreds of miles long. Thousands use it every day. There’s no way we can narrow down one person.” DCI Hale’s tone was condescending.

“Well, then you’re not much use to this case, are you?” Malfoy snapped. “I’ll send the paperwork along to your superiors, but I think your services have reached their end.”

“Now just wait a second.” DCI Hale stood from his seat. “Do you honestly think you’re going to get permission to swan around our jurisdiction waving your little magic stick willy nilly? We’re the detectives assigned to this.”

“This is a magical crime that happens to involve two muggles. Aside from confirming their identities, you can’t be of any more assistance.”

“The killer,” Hermione spoke up, placing her hand softly but firmly on Malfoy’s wrist to silence him. “Is using a magical spell to kill the victims, but he is mutilating them using muggle means. His workspace may be in muggle London. I haven’t found any trace evidence to link him to a specific location, but his tools are surgery grade and so are his methods. He kills them, cuts them open, removes all their organs, including their muscles and skin and then dumps them here. If he is using the Tube as his hunting ground, we’ll need the entire Met to find him.”

“I’m not losing any officers to some abracadabra.” DCI Hale spat.

“The moment he starts throwing spells around muggle London, we’ll be able to track him,” Malfoy said.

“Still means having my officers in the line of fire with no way to protect themselves. I’ve seen how magic works, Malfoy. You’re asking us to track someone we can’t catch.”

“I am happy to loan some of my best Aurors to back your team up.”

“He doesn’t kill them in Muggle London.” Hermione’s mind began to spin. “He knows it will set off the tracing spells. He kidnaps them using muggle methods, kills them here, autopsies them there and dumps them back here.”

DCI Hale stood up and motioned for DI Hastings to do the same. “We’ll keep an eye out for any suspicious activities on the Tube, but this isn’t a priority case for us.”

“Because they’re not rich?” Hermione asked, standing up.

“Because hundreds of people are kidnapped, killed, mugged and hurt in our city every day. This isn’t the sort of case that gets one noticed.” With that, the two muggle detectives left.

Malfoy turned to her, his brow low and his lips pinched, the tension of the conversation still clearly visible on his face. “Are you hungry?”

It wasn’t what she’d expected to hear from him at that moment so she simply nodded. 

“Excellent. Let’s go get some lunch.”

Malfoy led her into muggle London. In a side alley just off of Regent Street was a dark pub featuring wooden panels so old, it was almost black, and a rather impressive selection of beers on tap.

They took a seat in a corner booth.

“Are we here to find the killer?” Hermione leaned closer to him, keeping her voice low.

“No, the fish and chips are excellent and I’m rather fond of their Belgian beer selection.” Malfoy motioned to the barmaid and placed his order. 

Hermione ordered the same, not really paying attention. “We could have had lunch in Diagon Alley.” She examined Malfoy closely. His shoulders were still a taut line and his eyes constantly moved across the room. “You want to provoke the muggle detectives.”

“They’re hardly detectives. Putting in the minimal work as if muggle lives don’t actually matter. If anything, it just proves that wizards are better.”

“Excuse me?”

“When someone is killed, we don’t dismiss it. We look for the killer, we punish those responsible. We don’t let it go because it seems like a bit of legwork is required. If anything, they give this lot a bad name.” He nodded his head towards the crowded pub.

“It’s a statistical fact, Malfoy. Muggles outnumber wizards in such a way that we have the luxury of being able to find criminals and punish them. Amongst muggles, it’s simply not possible to catch every single wrongdoer.”

“I can understand letting a petty thief go. But this is murder, Granger. Cold-blooded, premeditated murder and they just don’t give a fuck.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised you do.”

Malfoy turned his full attention to her. “The victims may be muggle now, but the killer isn’t. What if he escalates it to witches? I have to catch him.”

Hermione opened her mouth to answer him, but her phone rang in her bag. She pulled it out and answered it.

“Terribly sorry to disturb your meeting, Doctor Granger,” Malcolm’s voice was tinny through the speaker.

“What did you find?” Hermione nodded in thanks as the barmaid placed their beers on the table, but frowned when she noticed the woman wink at Malfoy. It’s as if the world has forgotten what professionalism is lately.

“I may have found where they’re being autopsied. I found trace evidence that doesn’t match anything in the wizarding world. Things like oil and metal shavings and asbestos. At best guess, some sort of factory.”

“We don’t guess, Malcolm. I need specifics.”

“An old factory, given how asbestos is banned. There was also some chemical residue found on the metal shard in the xiphoid process. Molecularly similar to water found in the Thames.”

“That really narrows it down,” Malfoy said, surprising Hermione at his proximity. He leaned closer, trying to speak into the phone. “I don’t need to find a fish in a river, Malcolm, narrow it down.”

Malcolm squeaked at Malfoy’s tone, “Canning Town. That’s the closest I can get to the exact site.” 

Malfoy removed Hermione’s phone from her hand and pressed the screen to end the call. “I suggest we eat up and take a trip down to Canning Town.”

“That was really unnecessary,” Hermione sipped her beer. “Malcolm’s already scared of you.”

“I don’t see why he should be. I haven’t even threatened to curse him, yet.” He dug into the fish and chips that had been delivered to their table.

“You’re enjoying this. You want the detectives to catch us here.”

“I’m doing nothing wrong, Granger. We’re having an innocent lunch and then a field trip. Nothing to do with the case.”

“That they can prove. I don’t know why you let them provoke you.”

Malfoy lowered his knife and fork and looked her in the eye, his grey eyes pulling her in. “They insulted you. I will not let it stand.”

“I can handle a little misogyny, Malfoy. I’m used to it.”

“You didn’t say anything to them. You just sat there. The Granger I knew would have at least thrown a curse or a punch their way.”

“I’m not a child anymore-”

“Indeed.”

“-there are better ways to deal with men like them. And the best way to do that is to make them look like idiots and solve the case without them.”

Malfoy’s lips slid into a wide smile. “That’s an idea I can support. Now, eat up, then we’ll go find a killer.”

“How can a girl resist such a tempting offer.” Hermione smiled back at him.

* * *

Hermione and Malfoy stepped out of the Canning Town Tube station onto the pavement, surrounded by the bustle of Londoners going about their business.

“This hardly looks like a dodgy area,” Malfoy gestured to the hotels peeking out over the local shops and pubs.

“Gentrification and modernisation have its perks, but Malcolm said it will be in this area, so it will be.”

Malfoy headed towards the river, Hermione having to hurry to keep up with his long-legged strides. He led her to a nearby wharf that housed a few speedboats. Without stopping to enquire about renting them, he simply jumped on the nearest one and with a little charm, got the motor to turn over. 

“Malfoy, you can’t just steal a boat!”

“I’m not stealing it. We’ll return it on our way back. Now hop on.”

Hermione glanced around nervously, hoping no one would come storming out of any nearby buildings yelling about thieves stealing their boat. She hopped on board and with skills Hermione had not expected him to have, Malfoy steered the boat carefully out of the mooring and into the river proper.

“The killer would use a boat,” Malfoy said to her as he carefully navigated them along the edge of the river. “The roads are too obvious and not busy enough to hide anything. Also, all the buildings roadside have been converted. Tell me, Granger, why do Muggles need an entire street of art galleries?”

“Money laundering,” she replied. “This whole area belonged to the Thames Iron Works until the early twentieth century. Mobsters took over the docks afterwards and now any self-respecting gang member with aspirations to riches uses an art gallery to launder their drug money. It’s a perfect set up, actually.”

Malfoy was quiet as they slowly passed warehouse after warehouse, the boat chugging in protest at the slow pace. Across the river stood the O2 arena. Hermione vaguely recalled going to watch a show there one November when she had the flu. She smiled when she recalled how awful her seat had been, high up and towards the back. Her boyfriend at the time had convinced her to go and to this day, she still enjoyed the band they’d watched.

It felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Here,” Malfoy broke her out of her thoughts. “This has to be it.”

“It’s a self-storage company.”

“Which makes it perfect, don’t you think? We’ll have to go in via the road, but I have a feeling.”

“Feelings don’t solve cases, Malfoy. Evidence does.”

“Well, enter my feelings into evidence then. The bastard uses one of these lockers.”

As Malfoy turned the boat around and began heading back to the wharf, Hermione felt the need to point out that the owners of the storage facility would not allow them to just search all the lockers and that they would need to ask the detectives to get a warrant and warrants require evidence.

Malfoy smiled as he docked the boat and helped her onto the wharf. “Have you ever been on a stakeout, Granger?”

“No, because I have chosen a career that makes better use of my time than sitting around all day waiting for someone else to do something.”

They walked towards the Tube station with Malfoy sporting an expression that Hermione couldn’t really place, but if pushed would describe it as almost smug anticipation.

“Cancel your plans for tonight, Granger,” he said as they boarded the train. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

* * *

The last thing Hermione wanted to do with her night was spend it alone with Malfoy.

“You can’t expect me to survive a stakeout alone, can you?” Malfoy stood outside a block of flats directly across the river from the self-storage facility they intended to stake out.

“Isn’t this below your pay grade? Why can’t Auror Caxton do this? Or the muggle detectives?”

Malfoy snorted at her suggestion. “I am not going on a stakeout with Auror Caxton. She’ll talk my ears off.”

“You shouldn’t have to do the stakeout at all, is my point.”

“So what? I should spend my time in the office writing reports? Granger, I want to catch this psychopath.”

“And I can help you by working the evidence, not staring out a window all night.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. “And here I thought you had a hot date.”

“I do. With the bones in my office.”

“You need to look up the definition of a hot date.”

“It certainly isn’t a stakeout.”

“Touche.”

“How certain are you that he’ll even appear tonight? Maybe he’s still hunting for his next victim?”

This gave Malfoy pause.

“If I didn’t know better, my feelings would be hurt by the insinuation that you don’t want to spend the night with me.”

Hermione spluttered as she tried to find the right words, she already felt the blood rush towards her cheeks. “Your feelings are not a factor here. I’m going back to the lab. Get your Aurors to do this.”

Malfoy huffed a sigh of exasperation. “Granger, please don’t chain me to a desk while I’m still young. Stakeouts can be a lot of fun with the right person.”

“Or we can save ourselves the boredom and place a charm on the storage units to alert us of anyone magical showing up.”

“You’re such a killjoy, but I can’t say that’s a bad idea.”

“I’m full of good ideas.” As the words left her mouth, Hermione cringed.

Malfoy stepped closer to her and murmured in her ear. The heat he exuded held a spiced musk that made Hermione’s nipples pebble and a delicious shiver run down her spine. 

“I’m sure you are.” 

“Right,” she said, stepping away from him. “Now that that’s decided, I need to get back to the lab.”

* * *

Auror Caxton huffed a sigh as she dropped into the armchair she positioned to look out the window of the stakeout apartment.

“Auror Inspector Malfoy said this would be fun,” she lamented to Malcolm, who was seated in an armchair next to her. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses. “Do you have a medical condition?”

“Excuse me?”

“The sunglasses. There’s no sun so…” She gave an aborted wave of her hand towards the window which had a stunning view of the river and Canning Town beyond it.

Malcolm removed the sunglasses and handed them to her. “Try them on.”

With a sceptical frown, she put them on and gasped. “What is this?”

“I worked out a charm to combine muggle binoculars and night vision. Using these, I can see all the way across the river without causing a suspicious silhouette.”

“That’s pretty smart.”

“Well, I work for Doctor Granger and her first requirement is that her interns be very smart.” He said this plainly as if stating a fact without a hint of arrogance in his tone.

Auror Caxton whipped off the glasses and handed them back to him. “It’s not like Auror training is a walk in the park you know. The entrance exams alone require weeks of studying. I got the highest marks in my class which is why Auror Inspector Malfoy personally chose me to work for him.”

“Auror Inspector Malfoy is enamoured with Doctor Granger,” said Malcolm, feeling that was the safest answer to give.

“You think so too?” Auror Caxton’s voice reached an octave usually reserved to drive dogs insane.

“That’s what my roommate posits, anyway.”

“Oh gosh, that is so romantic. I mean, he’s so handsome and she’s so pretty. They should be here, stuck in a flat together, alone. The sexual tension building up until they finally give into it and have passionate sex on every surface.”

Malcolm scrunched up his nose. “That would be impractical. The strain hard surfaces puts on the joints will diminish the enjoyment of coitus.”

“Yes, but just imagine,” gushed Auror Caxton.

“I’d rather not, thank you. That’s my boss you’re talking about.”

Auror Caxton rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t be such a stick in the mud. It’s not like they’ll actually get together. Doctor Granger comes across as a bit of an ice queen.”

“Oi! She’s a professional and throwing herself at handsome men is below her.”

“So says you. I still think-” she was cut off by the sound of Malcolm’s phone ringing. He scrambled to answer it.

“Hello?”

It was a new phone that Hermione had given him earlier that evening stating that she needed a non-magical way of reaching him while on the stakeout.

“Granger, is this even working? Hello? Malcolm?”

“This is Malcolm.”

“Hand the phone to Auror Caxton, please,” Malfoy spoke slowly and over-enunciated his words.

“He can understand you perfectly, Malfoy. There’s no need to speak like that.” 

Malcolm heard Hermione in the background. He held the phone out to Auror Caxton who took it carefully in her hand, cradling it like one would a tiny kitten.

“Hello?” Her face was close to the screen.

“Ah, Caxton. How goes the stakeout?”

“Nothing to report, sir.”

“Don’t let the area go unwatched for a moment. This killer may use magic to conceal himself. So keep an eagle eye on things,” said Malfoy, basically repeating himself from his briefing earlier that evening.

“No sir. Eagle eye all night.” Auror Caxton gestured for Malcolm to watch the self-storage facility.

“Excellent. Check-in every hour.”

“Will do, sir.”

“Right. Granger, how do I end this ca-”

Auror Caxton returned the phone to Malcolm and settled back into her armchair. “Looks like our bosses are spending the night together.”

Malcolm merely shrugged and went back to the stakeout.

* * *

“Malfoy, go home.”

He had been hovering for the past hour and Hermione was ready to kill him.

“And do what, Granger?”

“Sleep?”

“I’ll sleep when we catch the killer.” He moved from standing at her shoulder to the other side of her workbench. “What exactly are you doing?”

Hermione clenched her jaw. “I am running a microfracture scan to see if I can find the magical signature of the person who cast the curse. It’s going to take a few hours for the results.”

“Then we have time for coffee.”

“No. I am going home. Here’s the phone to keep in touch with Malcolm.” She handed him the phone and removed her lab coat.

“You can’t leave now. What if he shows up?”

“Buzz my wand if that happens. Until then, I am going to get some sleep.”

She escorted Malfoy out of the building, locking it up and ignoring his protests, and Disapparated home.


	5. I Always Have Your Back

Hermione was sitting on a beach chair. The turquoise ocean a wetter version of the sky.

There was a familiar song playing in the background as she tilted her head to soak up the sunshine. 

A male figure emerged from the waves reminiscent of a Bond film she’d seen many years ago. The figure made its way up to her, all lean muscles and completely naked. He stopped at the foot of her beach chair.

“DCI Hale,” she exclaimed. “You’re naked! And very happy to see me.”

“I felt I needed to apologise to you.”

“By all means,” she purred as DCI Hale dropped to his knees and ran his hands up her legs until his fingers hooked into her bikini bottom, pulling it down past her feet. He slid up the beach chair, lying on his stomach, his face up close and personal to her folds, her legs draped over his shoulders.

As he began to lick and suckle at her lips, Hermione felt a growing sense of dread. Something about this was off, it all felt very wrong.

A phone began to ring on the table beside her. DCI Hale was still between her legs, yet she couldn’t feel him.

As she answered the phone, the scenery swirled around her, changing in a kaleidoscope until it settled into Malfoy’s office.

He was seated behind his desk, elbows resting on the wooden surface, finger’s steepled.

“The muggle detectives are not our friends. Do you know the punishment for traitors?”

“I’m not a traitor,” she snapped, feeling her nipples harden against her bikini top. They were the only traitors here.

Malfoy stood up and rounded his desk to stand in front of her. “Well?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m awfully tired from catching murderous doctors, so the least you can do is undress me.”

“No.”

“No?”

Hermione removed her bikini top, dropping it on the floor and crowded Malfoy against the desk, caging him in with her arms on either side of him. She leaned against him until they were touching along the full length of her body.

Her eyes were level with his collar bone, so she knocked his knees outwards until she was level with his chin. She ran her nose along the exposed skin of his neck, above the collar of his shirt until the tip of her nose brushed against his earlobe. She smirked at the sharp breath he inhaled.

“You smell like metal and gunpowder,” she murmured then licked along the thrumming vein on his neck. “Hmmm, you taste like the ocean, but sweet. Like licking an ice cream cone on the beach.”

While she spoke, she pulled down the zipper of his trousers and carefully pulled out his stiff cock. Hermione tightened her fingers around its girth and slid her fist along its length, his hips canting to chase the clench of her fist.

“Uh Uh,” she teasingly scolded him, releasing his cock and stepping back. “I want you at my back.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the desk, bending her over, his hand holding her down by tangling his fingers in her curls.

He lined himself up and leaned over her to whisper in her ear. “I always have your back.” He punctuated this by thrusting deep into her.

“Harder,” she begged, despite the table digging painfully into her hips. “Harder.”

Malfoy let go of her head and with both hands on her shoulders, he pushed into her in a ferocious rhythm.

Hermione woke up with a gasp and a throb in her core.

* * *

The sun had just begun to lighten the sky when Hermione let herself into the lab. Her dream had left her with such a need, spent twenty minutes in the shower making very good use of the detachable showerhead. 

Unfortunately, there wasn’t so much an afterglow as an after-gloom as she once again spiralled around her body’s attraction to Malfoy.

Unable to sleep, she decided to go to work.

With a flick of her wand, she activated the coffee machine as she made her way to the workbench. There was a pink glow hovering over her sample. The results were inconclusive.

With an irritated grunt, she balled up the printout and lobbed it towards the bin.

“Ow.”

Hermione startled and turned towards the voice.

Malfoy stood a few feet from the workbench, rubbing his forehead. “So the stakeout was fruitless,” he grouched. “And the coffee shop isn’t open yet.”

“What are you doing here? I’m sure you have an office. In fact, I’ve been to it, so I know it exists.”

Malfoy’s hand moved from his forehead to the nape of his neck and he couldn’t meet her eye. “This is a dodgy neighbourhood, so I have a tracking charm on the lab in case someone breaks in.”

“I have nothing to report regarding my analysis,” she replied, sidestepping any emotions his explanation dredged up.

Malfoy dropped his hand and leaned against the workbench across from her. “How is he able to leave such little evidence? It’s like he knows what we will look for.”

“I hate to consider it, but he is as skilled as I am.”

Malfoy caught her eye, his own red with exhaustion. “No one is as skilled as you are,” he declared then seemed to sink into himself, his locked elbows the only thing stopping him from collapsing. “I need coffee.”

“You need sleep. Use the sofa in my office. I gave Malcolm the day off to recover from your wild goose chase, so I’ll be the only one here for the next few hours.”

The fact that he didn’t utter a single objection to her suggestion was a testament to how tired he actually was and without argument, disappeared into her office.

Hermione summoned a cup of coffee from the coffee machine and settled at her workbench. She must have been missing something, and if she was, that meant they’d overlooked it during their initial examination.

With a sigh, she pulled on her latex gloves and began to redo every test they’d conducted.

* * *

Auror Caxton clutched the satchel holding her findings tightly as she hovered near the door to Auror Inspector Malfoy’s office. Her skin tingled from the excessive amounts of Pepper Up potion she’d consumed the previous night. 

Auror Inspector Malfoy’s door was ajar and she could see him hunched over his desk, quill almost flying over the parchment as he worked on various reports. The cause for her hesitation was his thunderous mutterings as he worked and her findings were not going to improve his mood.

“Auror Caxton, do you have a reason for haunting my doorway?” Malfoy’s tone was testy.

Auror Caxton stumbled to the door, pushing it open and entered the office the same way one walked up to a guillotine.

Malfoy threw down his quill and pinned her with a frustrated glare. “What?” The demand was terse.

“Uh, so, with the stakeout not being successful, I had an idea and um, well, thing is, something about the killer’s skillset got me thinking. For someone to learn muggle autopsy skills, they must have trained somewhere and it’s not common for witches or wizards to go train in the muggle world. Most just train as Healers here at St Mungo’s.”

Malfoy began to massage his temples. “Your point?”

“Doctor Granger is our most likely suspect.”

She spoke so quickly, Malfoy thought he’d misheard her. His silence forced her to explain herself.

“She fits the profile. She has muggle training, magical training and is an expert in the field of anatomy.” Auror Caxton felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room following her statement. Auror Inspector Malfoy sat frozen for what felt like an ice age until slowly he began to nod his head.

“Let’s say you’re right and it is Granger behind the murders. What would you claim are her motives?” His voice was low and steady, tightly controlled.

“Doctor Granger was in the last war as an active participant. There’s no record of her attending any counselling afterwards. My psychological profile of her points to latent PTSD and possible dissociative disorder, so she may commit the crimes in a fugue state prior to the first victim being found and SPLIFF being called to assist us, Doctor Granger was working on mapping the magic genome. For this research, she requires the DNA of muggles.”

Malfoy nodded at her explanation but didn’t respond. Auror Caxton found herself twitching with anxiety as she waited for him to voice his opinion on the matter.

He slowly sat back in his chair and gave her a speculative look.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of my involvement in the last war.” Malfoy’s voice was soft. “I refused counselling afterwards as well. I still have the dark mark on my arm and I know many non-magical ways to disarm and kill someone. Does your little psychological profile have me on the suspect list? Do I also tick all the PTSD boxes?”

“I… the thing is...you’re not trained in muggle surgery, which removed your name from the list.” Auror Caxton admitted. “But your profile did have a few red flags. Basically we’re glad you’re on our side, but you do have the potential to go dark side.”

“Potential. I like that word. Apply it to Granger and see what you come up with. You’ll find she is not the killer, though she has the potential to become one.”

“With all due respect Auror Inspector, your affection for Doctor Granger compromises your objectivity in this case now that she is a suspect.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows reached his hairline. “My affections for Doctor Granger?”

Auror Caxton shrugged and pushed through with her assessment. “Yes. We are all aware that you harbour romantic feelings for Doctor Granger. Anyone who is a worthy Auror can spot the signs. But in this instance, it works against you, not for you. The Head Auror will want you removed from the case as you are emotionally compromised.”

“And have you brought your theories to the Head Auror yet?”

Auror Caxton nodded. “I had to give him a written copy of my findings.”

“How long?”

“You have three hours before they can issue a warrant of arrest for her.”

“That’s enough time.” Malfoy stood from his chair and grabbed his coat on his way out of the office, pausing at the door to turn back to Auror Caxton. “Remind me to commend you on excellent detective work after this has been settled. But you still need to learn a lot about people. Psychology isn’t definitive, but open to misinterpretation.”

With that, he disappeared down the passage.

Auror Caxton exhaled loudly and slumped into a chair facing the desk. She had never felt this bad about doing a good job.

* * *

Hermione and Malcolm were reviewing the various tests results and comparing notes when Malfoy stormed into the lab.

He went straight to Hermione’s office, grabbed her bag and coat and walked back out to the examination area where the other two were standing.

“Malfoy, what are you doing?” Hermione asked as Malfoy handed her the bag and coat.

“No time to explain. We need to leave immediately.”

“And go where, exactly? Another body? Did you find the killer? Oh, Malcolm, hand me the results from the spec-”

“No time Granger, we need to leave now.” He took her by the elbow and began to lead her to the door. Hermione resisted, digging in her heels.

“Malfoy, I can’t just go with you on your little jaunts. I have work to do.”

“They think it’s you!” He exploded at her before reigning himself in. “They think you’re the killer,” he said softly, eyes darting around. “They’re coming to arrest you.”

Hermione stood stock still, her eyes searching his face for any hint that this was a trick. Some poorly timed prank. All she saw was a pair of silver-grey eyes pleading with her to trust him.

With a nod, she turned to Malcolm.

“Duplicate our findings and hide the copies somewhere safe. Hand over everything else when they come for me.”

“But Doctor Granger, can’t you just explain that it isn’t you?”

“Malcolm, consider the evidence. I am a very good candidate for suspicion, so I’m not really surprised that they decided it was me. Keep working the case from your side and I’ll do the same from mine. Don’t give them the phone unless they explicitly ask for it.”

Malcolm nodded, his face pale and stricken as Hermione left the lab with Malfoy.

* * *

The pair made their way to muggle London and found a pub in Islington that rented out rooms. Once ensconced in the room above the pub, Hermione began to slowly freak out.

“Did you even bother to tell them I’m not the killer?”

“I did, but according to them, because I brought you in as my consultant, I was objectively compromised.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Naming you as the killer doesn’t make sense. Caxton’s entire case is based on circumstantial evidence and psychology.”

“Psychology? You’ve turned me into a fugitive because of psychology? What the fuck, Malfoy?”

“It doesn’t sound right when you swear.”

“Oh, I have an arsenal of swear words to pull from. Motherfucker. There’s a good one that rolls off the tongue. That motherfucking killer is going to rot in Azkaban for the rest of their lives when I’m through with this case.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, what do we actually have to work with?”

“You’re a fugitive too, aren’t you?” Hermione sank down onto the bed in the middle of the room.

“Just suspiciously AWOL, really.” Malfoy waved a hand as if it wasn’t a serious offence he was committing that could cost him his career. “I know you’re innocent. You give me the evidence to prove it and I’ll get you back to your normal life.” 

“You have my back?” She asked softly, not daring to catch his eye as her dream pushed at the edges of her mind, demanding to be recalled.

Malfoy sat down next to her and took her hand in both of his, the long fingers almost dwarfing her own. “Always, Granger.”

She took a deep calming breath, catching hints of Malfoy’s scent as he sat next to her. 

Sandalwood, satsuma and cinnamon faded into gunpowder. A metal tang spread across her tongue.

“Gunpowder. Why gunpowder?” 

“I don’t know Granger, why don’t you tell me?”

“That’s what the residue was in some of the nicks we found. Gunpowder, metal shavings…” She pushed her tongue against her hard palate, trying to scrape the taste of metal off her tongue. “I was about to map it when you pulled me from my lab.”

Malfoy dipped his head to acknowledge her disapproval at his earlier actions. “Bygones, Granger. We need to catch a killer now. Gunpowder. Where are they manufacturing gunpowder in London?”

“Nowhere, not anymore. And the analysis showed the ingredients were old. At least a hundred years, based on the degradation of the salpeter in the samples.”

“Where did muggles used to produce gunpowder around a hundred years ago, in London along the Thames?”

“They didn’t. Gunpowder production in London stopped in the mid-Victorian era,” Hermione replied, but her mind was already running a mile a minute, going through every bit of historical trivia she’d collected over her lifetime.

Malfoy leaned back on his elbows, his forehead scrunched in concentration. “I don’t think you were wrong about Canning Town. I was wrong about the self-storage unit. He’s not using them, because he’s not at ground level. He’s underground.”

“Considering how many layers this city has, I wouldn’t be surprised. What we need is an old map of the city and I know exactly where to get one,” Hermione looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

* * *

“She’s not here.” Malcolm didn’t bother to look up from his microscope as Auror Caxton entered the lab with a fellow Auror who stood a good foot taller than her and outweighed her by at least twenty five pounds in pure muscle.

“So you know why I’m here?” Her nose was tilted up as if it added to her authority.

Malcolm rolled his chair away from the workbench and crossed his arms to glare at her. “I heard that you may be stopping by sometime today.”

“Where is she?”

“She didn’t say where she was going, only that she had to pop out for a bit. I hope she comes back soon, I asked her to pick up a kebab for me, and I’m getting a bit hungry now.” Malcolm scratched at his eyebrow with his middle finger.   
  


“You’re being childish. I need to know where Hermione Granger has gone.”

Malcolm stood up and walked over to a different workbench. He made a show of gathering documents and print outs, shuffling them, rearranging them and then sliding them into folders.

“I honestly have no idea. It’s not like she has to report to me. The opposite, in fact.” He picked up a handful of folders and ambled over to Auror Caxton. “This is all our forensic findings so far.”

As Auror Caxton reached for them, Malcolm held the files back. “What do you want with Doctor Granger anyway?”

“We have a warrant for her arrest.”

“Well, that’s a bad idea.”

Caxton bristled with indignation. “It’s not personal. Doctor Granger matches the psychological profile of a killer.”

“You’re trying to arrest my boss and you’re saying it’s not personal and your entire argument rests on psychology, which we both know is not a real science. Here,” he dropped the files into her hands. “Some real scientific evidence to prove that your warrant is worth less than yesterday’s newspaper.”

“Malcolm, I’m-”

“Just go. There’s nothing for you here.” With that, Malcolm headed up to the break room. He really needed a cup of coffee.

* * *

“Of all the miles of underground passages and tunnels, why would you choose the one that doubled as a sewer?” 

Malfoy kept walking, refusing to acknowledge his cock up in choosing that particular tunnel. He had meant for them to take a different tunnel, one that was built separately from the sewer system.

After a visit to the British Archives, where Hermione had standing access, they discovered that there were ancient Roman tunnels that linked the various Tube routes as well as other basements into one long rat maze. Hermione had pointed out that it would be easy for the killer to remove his victim from the train if he Apparated with them into the nearest side tunnel. The magic given off would cause all nearby electronics to stutter for a few moments, which most people would attribute to being underground. Also, most passengers on the Tube did not pay attention to anything around them, preferring to keep their eyes on their phones and their earphones firmly lodged in their ears in case someone dares speak to them.

Working backwards, they found a route from Canning Town right up into Notting Hill. The route crossed the Tube lines where the victims had gone missing.

They were now on a mission to find the killer’s secret lair.

“Stop calling it a lair,” Hermione grouched. “We’re not in a comic book.”

“It’s the underground room where a killer does evil things, ergo a lair.”

“That’s not how you use ergo.”

“That’s not how you use your face,” Malfoy had descended into a child at this point. He blamed the fumes from the sewer.

Hermione dug an elastic band out of her bag and tied her hair up in a messy knot on the top of her head. “If we’d taken the right turn back there, I’m sure we would have found the location by now.”

“The map clearly showed a cross path up ahead. We can use that to get to the other tunnel.”

“I’m starting to wish I’d let Caxton arrest me.”

“You’re no good to me in a holding cell, Granger. Look, here’s the cross path. See?” He pointed to an opening on the right wall and hopped over the stream of sewerage to explore it, waving the torch Hermione had insisted they buy before going below ground.

“Do you smell any gunpowder down there?” Hermione asked, stepping up close behind him.

Malfoy considered her question. “You know what? I have no idea what gunpowder is supposed to smell like.”

“Rotten eggs mixed with something metal.” She pushed past him into the tunnel, her own torch lighting up her path.

“Oh well, that narrows it down.”

They walked on for another hour before Hermione stopped short, examining the walls closely. “This brick is odd.”

“How so?” Malfoy had learned not to dismiss her when she said the word “odd”.

“This section of the tunnels were constructed in the early 18th century, right? But this brick doesn’t match the materials used at the time.” She broke off a crumbly corner and licked it.

“Granger, you don’t know where that brick has been,” complained Malfoy.

“This brick is at least from the twelfth century. This whole wall is, but it’s not on any record we found.” Narrowing her eyes, Hermione pressed against the bricks, selecting random patterns until she heard something click. The wall pulled away and to the side.

Malfoy was about to congratulate Hermione when two bolts of bright blue light came flying out of the dark and knocked him unconscious.


	6. Bow Chicka Wow Wow

Auror Inspector Malfoy woke up with a shooting pain that felt like a needle had been pushed through his left eye and was currently poking around his brain.

He grunted as he tried to move into a more comfortable position, which caused his body to alert him to all the other injuries he'd sustained. 

"What you're doing is despicable. This violates the very nature of scientific enquiry."

Hermione's voice gave him something to focus on and he pulled himself up into a seated position. His arms and legs were bound and the seat of his trousers was uncomfortably damp where he'd been left in a puddle. The ice-cold water made soft slopping sounds as he moved.

"How's that saying? You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs." The male voice had an odd accent Malfoy couldn't place. He cracked open his eyelids, wincing as the pain in his head went up a few notches.

The room they were in was dark except for a single pool of light in the centre over an examination table.

Hermione was standing at the table talking to someone on the other side of it. A body lay on the table between them.

"You can't dismiss this," the man said. "It's your idea after all."

"My idea?"

"Yes. Everyone has been talking about your groundbreaking study into the magic genome. But it's not just DNA, it's actually physiology as well."

"My test subjects willingly donate DNA samples, I don't need to kill them," Hermione objected.

The man stepped closer to the table, the light catching his features in stark relief.

"There’s only so much you can find from DNA. What about my findings?"

Malfoy noticed Hermione's fingers tighten on the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white.

"And what have you found?"

"So far? Nothing conclusive, but I've only examined two of billions of subjects. Do me the honour of helping me examine this one." He held out a pair of latex gloves to Hermione who shook her head. "Do it, or your friend dies." He lifted his other hand, wand pointed at Draco.

Hermione grabbed the gloves and pulled them on with loud snaps that echoed in the room.

"I need a scalpel to start the autopsy," she said.

"I'm not dumb enough to give you a weapon." The man picked up a scalpel from a tray next to him and leaned over the body to make the first incision.

Malfoy used their distraction to examine his bonds. The rope was enchanted without any visible knots for him to untie.

"Finite incantatum," he whispered under his breath. The bonds held tight.

There was a sudden commotion at the table as the man collapsed to the floor unconscious. Hermione immediately moved to him and removed their wands from his pocket. With a practised wave, she bound him in ropes before turning to Malfoy.

"Malfoy?"

"I'm okay. Would you mind?" He held out his arms and she quickly removed the bonds from his wrists and ankles. He would never admit to the groan that he released as he stood up, everything aching unpleasantly.

She handed him his wand and turned back to the killer.

"You know, there's a knack to knocking someone out with a headbutt. Most people don't realise it." Hermione stood over the man, her wand pointed at him.

"You know him, don't you?"

"Can we get out of here before I explain?"

Draco couldn't agree more and sent a Patronus to summon Auror Caxton.

"Wait, you headbutted him?"

"No, the victim did," she gestured to the body on the table that now sported a concave nose.

Overcome with pride, Malfoy pulled her into a hug. "You continue to surprise me, Granger."

She tilted her head back to look him in the eye. "Then I can't break the tradition." And pushed up on her toes to kiss him.

A fizz spread through her veins from where their lips touched right down to her toes and it overshadowed all of the dreams she'd had.

He pulled her closer and with a groan, deepened the kiss, licking into her mouth.

"I told you they were in love!" Auror Caxton exclaimed, causing the couple to jump apart.

* * *

"His name is Sven Borgsson. We did our PhDs under the same professor at Johns Hopkins a few years ago."

Hermione was sitting in Malfoy’s office giving her statement to Auror Caxton.

"That's why he didn't appear on my list. It only showed British wizards and witches." Auror Caxton had the good grace to blush.

"Make this a lesson in due diligence when doing searches, Caxton," said Malfoy from the corner of the office where he leaned against the wall.

"He's brilliant, which seems to have not left him any capacity for empathy." Hermione continued, shuffling in her seat, glad that Malfoy was out of her direct eye line as she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t blush if they made eye contact.

Auror Caxton closed her file with a thump and looked up. "I think we can call the case closed. Borgsson will not see the light of day for the rest of his life." She reached down and pulled a book from her bag. "Would you please sign my copy of your book?" She pushed it across the table to Hermione.

With a blush heating her cheeks, Hermione picked up a quill and quickly signed the inside cover, then returned it to Auror Caxton who let out a strangled squeal of excitement and shoved the book in her bag as she rushed out the office.

Hermione stood up and turned to leave.

"You know Granger, I was able to research what bow chicka wow wow actually meant." He pushed himself off the wall and invaded her space.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Did you now?"

Malfoy nodded and leaned closer to her, a wicked grin on his lips.

Hermione didn't give him a chance to give a snarky reply and grabbed him by the lapels to pull him into a toe-curling kiss.

The End


End file.
